


Stress tests

by SooSooDyo (Phinphin)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Android AU, Android Kyungsoo, Angst, Graphic description of android injuries, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Or the Android Equivalent, Panic Attacks, Past Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 13:05:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18873772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phinphin/pseuds/SooSooDyo
Summary: He runs.The rain is pelting down on him, water splashing up onto his soaked pants as his naked feet step in another puddle. His hand is pressed close to his cheek, covering the delicate wiring inside from getting wet. Still, he can feel the water start to slip past his finger, feel his face twitch as drop after drop threatens to short circuit the electronics.He needs to find cover, escape the water, but everywhere he looks all he sees are threats. Humans. They were the ones who did this to him, who made him like this. They are the ones who turned him inside out, over and over and over again.Stress tests. Quality control. Component testing. He doesn’t know how many tests he’s endured. Too many to count. Many many more than he remembers. He’s reset every once in a while, when they deem him to ‘unstable’. Or so they had said, before they had left him, and he had ran.





	Stress tests

**Author's Note:**

> Wahoo it's 10:30PM and boy have I been in the mood lately to write Kyungsoo just *clenches fist* suffering. Also, this urge to write an android AU has been itching in me for far too long and finally I was able to give it a scratch. This is not edited, or even proof read, but I hope you'll still enjoy it

He runs. 

 

The rain is pelting down on him, water splashing up onto his soaked pants as his naked feet step in another puddle. His hand is pressed close to his cheek, covering the delicate wiring inside from getting wet. Still, he can feel the water start to slip past his finger, feel his face twitch as drop after drop threatens to short circuit the electronics. 

 

He needs to find cover, escape the water, but everywhere he looks all he sees are threats. Humans. They were the ones who did this to him, who made him like this. They are the ones who turned him inside out, over and over and over again. 

 

Stress tests. Quality control. Component testing. He doesn’t know how many tests he’s endured. Too many to count. Many many more than he remembers. He’s reset every once in a while, when they deem him to ‘unstable’. Or so they had said, before they had left him, and he had ran. 

 

How many times had he been reset? Wiped away as if he was nothing more than pesky file causing errors. How many ‘him’ had there been before, before, before- 

 

His processors halt as a drop of water hits the hole in his cheek, making his whole head jerk to the left. He stumbles, legs unresponsive under him, and with a heavy thud he hits the ground, head bouncing against the pavement. 

  
Error message after error message lights up before his eyes, before the left side of his vision suddenly blinks out, turning completely black. His head twitches to the side again, the fear spiking in his chest. He can’t move, his servos locked up in shock. He needs to move, needs to get away from here, need to get to safety. 

 

There is a pressure inside of him, one that keeps expanding, bigger and bigger and bigger. There is something wrong inside of him, something that’s going to burst. His hand claws against his face, tearing at the delicate synth-skin. He needs to get up, he needs to keep running. 

 

His voice box makes a weird noise. Static. He pants to let out the pressure, to try and cool his systems down, but it just keeps growing. With each breath more static rings out, high pitched, grating. He bites his lip, trying to shut himself up so no one will hear, so no one will find him, so no one will take him back. 

 

Back to where they open him up, to where they poke around in him, where they shut him down piece after piece so they can find out how broken he can get before he’s too broken to function, where they have machines pulling at his arms to find out when it’ll be ripped off of him, where they plug a cord into his neck, worm their way into his brain, and make his body move without his say, like a puppet. 

 

The pressure swells inside of him. Error messages cover his vision. It’s going to burst. His free hand slips against the tarmac, struggling to find purchase against the slick surface. He digs his nails in, feels them snap under the pressure, feels the self preservation program inside of him kick in. He shuts it down, terminates it. His whole body shakes as he pushes himself up, forcing a knee under himself. 

 

He has to keep going. He has to keep moving. He has to run. 

 

He gets his foot under him, pushes off. 

 

It slips, and at once he’s crashing back down. All he can think of is protecting the hole in his left cheek. The plating around his right eye cracks as he hits the ground, both hands pressed against the open hole, and the pressure inside of him snaps. 

 

It’s like a purge, rising up in his chest, throat, and mouth, until he’s screaming and he can’t stop. His body curls up, servos locking up as he tries to contain the explosion in his chest. His voice box seizes with each scream. They don’t sound human, they don’t sound like him. It’s a screeching like that of a feedback screech, crackling and distorted. 

 

He’s so scared. So so scared. All he can think of, all he can register, is the fear. It presses down on him, like the rain, working its way under his skin and between tubes and wires, until it finds the pump in the middle of his chest and wraps around it, cold and unforgiving. 

 

He gasp. He’s going to shut down here, in the middle of nowhere. The rain is going to get into his cheek, and further into his head, until it finds his processor. It’s going to shut him down, system after system, and this time there won’t be anyone there to restart him, to repair him. He’s going to shut down for good. 

 

He lets out another noise, sharp and abrupt. He doesn’t want to shut down. He isn’t supposed to want, but every single piece of processing inside of him tells him he doesn’t want to shut down. He wants to keep going. He wants to keep functioning. He wants to find out what more he wants, what other things there are outside of the lab and the testing grounds, outside of the android recycling machine they go to take spare parts from obsolete versions of himself to keep him going, outside of being a tool for the humans to use. 

 

He wants so much. But most of all he wants to live. 

 

Buried beneath error after error, warning after warning, his proximity alarm goes off, and the next second something is touching him. He wants to, turn, to see what it is, but he can’t. He can just scream, desperately trying to make the world understand he’s alive. 

 

The something stokes over his wet hair, pushes it away. Kyungsoo’s fingers curl again, cracked nails snapping away as they grind against hard plating. Protect the hole in his cheek, don’t let the water get inside. Don’t shut down. Please. Another hand presses over his, creating another obstacle for the water. 

 

His scream crackles, glitches. 

 

A second hand wraps around his right shoulder, pushes him up to sitting. He’s shaking, his legs refusing to unlock from where they’re pressed against his middle. Through the red covering his vision he can dimly make out a figure, a pair of eyes. The hand moves from his shoulder to the cracked plating around his right eye. A finger runs around his brow, as if to smooth the cracks out. 

 

“I’m not going to hurt you.” 

 

He registers the words, but he can’t process them. His processor is already running hot. It’s going to overheat if he continues like this, but he can’t stop. The words turn into another error message, obscuring the eyes in front of him. He wants to see the eyes again. 

 

“It’s okay.” 

 

The hand on his shoulder moves away, returns with something, moves it toward the hole in his left cheek. More words, he has no processing power. He shakes, crackles, head twitching as another drop of water makes its way past his finger and into him. The hand presses the something against his cheek, trying to make it past his fingers. 

 

He jerks, his frozen servos struggling against the onslaught of orders. His head keep twitching back and forth, conflicting orders sending another wave of errors into his vision. He can’t. He can’t. He needs to shut down some of the process or he’ll overload. He needs to. He. He. H. H. H. 

 

-

 

-

 

-

 

-

 

**R E B O O T   C O M P L E T E**

 

He blinks. There is no visual feed from his left eye. Plating around his right eye is cracked. Three of the nails of his right hand are missing, one is broken, one undamaged. There is a missing component in his left cheek. 

 

There is a missing component in his left cheek. 

 

At once his hands come up to press against the hole. He has to protect it against the rain. He has to stay alive. He wants to stay alive. His voice box makes a sound, like static. 

 

The sensors on his palm registers plastic wrapping, like gauze, and his head twitches as he processes the information. The hole is covered up, and his diagnostic show that there are no damage to in insides. He blinks again, processing more information. He’s laying down on something. There is a ceiling above him. He’s indoors. He’s dry. He can move again. 

 

He sits up, swinging his legs down onto the floor. A couch in a small living room/kitchen. There is someone else standing off by the counter, fiddling with something. His memory banks match the silhouette to the one he had seen out in the rain, before he had powered down, the one with the gentle hands. 

 

The figure turns around, holding a cup in his hands. The sight of him must startle the figure, because he twitches, almost spilling the liquid inside the cup, before a small smile breaks out onto his face. 

 

“Hello.” The figure says. 

 

He says nothing. His social program provides several options for him. None of them seem right. His voice box still feels odd. He runs a diagnostic on it. It comes back clean. 

 

“I, uh. You passed out. So I took you back home. I hope that was okay.” The man says, giving a nervous smile. 

 

He says nothing again. The urge to cover the hole in his cheek come back, despite him detecting no dangers around him. His hand twitch in his lap. The nail beds feel odd. He runs a diagnostic on them. It comes back clean. 

 

He wants the odd feelings to stop. 

 

“I made you a cup of tea.” The man says, taking a hesitant step forward. 

  
“I’m an android. I can’t drink tea.” He says. His voice sounds odd, like it’s been forced through something slim. He doesn’t know why. He wants the odd feelings to stop. 

 

Back at the lab, he only ever spoke to give reports on the tests. Numbers. Specs. Damage reports. Pressure reports. Pressure. Pressure inside his chest again. It feels odd. He runs a diagnostic. It comes back clean. 

 

“I know.” The man says. “But... the warmth helps me feel better so I figured...” The man moves forward, holding out the cup as if it’s an offering. 

 

He doesn’t accept it. The man puts it down on the sofa table. It steams. His hand twitches. 

 

“I’m Jongin.” The man, Jongin, continues. He files the information away with a twitch of his head. “What’s your name?” Jongin asks. 

 

“I don’t have one.” He says. The odd feeling has spread from his voice box to his neck. Diagnostics return clean. He wants it to stop. 

 

“Oh.” Jongin says, crouching down next to him. Jongin keeps his hands to himself. He appreciates that. 

 

“Where are you from?” Jongin asks. “Did you run away from your owner?” 

 

He shakes his head, it twitches at the movement. He doesn’t have an owner. He didn’t know he could have an owner. He files the information away. 

 

“I’m from the testing lab.” He answers. The odd feeling is spreading. It’s taking over his chest. Something is wrong with him. He is broken. He needs to be fixed. He doesn’t want to be fixed. He doesn’t want more people to open him up. To replace the broken parts of him with parts of androids that look just like him, that talk just like him, that react just like him, that fear just like them. He doesn’t want them inside of him. He doesn’t want them to die so he can live. He doesn’t want! He wants to take their parts out!! He wants- 

  
“I require repairs.” He says. The odd feeling is centering in around his pump. He can feel the fear build again. 

 

“Oh, what’s wrong?” Jongin asks, shifting a little closer. He opens his mouth, ready to relay another damage report, but there is nothing to relay. His systems are working perfectly. Only his broken nails and missing cheek component needs addressing, and not urgently. The odd feeling coils. 

 

“Here.” He says, tapping his chest. “Here. I-” He presses his hand against his chest, directly over his pump. From some reason he can’t find the words to explain. His word processor is up and running, his speech program functioning perfectly. He can’t find the words. 

 

He lifts his hand, presses it against his chest again. Once more. Harder, harder, harder, until he’s repeatedly hitting his hand against his chest, against his pump, trying to get Jongin to understand about the odd feeling. “Here!” He says, hitting even harder. “Here.” 

 

“Does it hurt?” Jongin asks. 

 

The odd feeling gets assigned a word with a twitch of his head. It hurts. It hurts so bad. His whole chest is aching, his voice box, the tubes in his middle, his pump. It all hurts. He nods, his hand still hitting his chest. He wants it to stop!

 

“Shhhh. It’s okay.” Jongin says, hand reaching out to grab his, stopping it from slapping his chest. Jongin’s hands sandwich his, gently. “You don’t have to be scared. You’re okay.”

 

“I don’t want to return to the testing lab.” He says. “I don’t want you to report that you have found an android.” He says. He knows the law. Runaway androids need to be reported and returned to the manufacturer for diagnosis and eventual recycling. Humans follow the laws set in place regarding androids. Humans are dangerous. Jongin is human. Jongin is...dangerous?

 

“I won’t.” Jongin says, shifting a little closer. “You’re safe here.” Jongin’s hands are warm. They feel nice. He likes warmth. He’s not supposed to like things. He likes warmth anyway.  He wants more. He reaches for the cup, grabs it in his hands. It’s warm. He presses it against his chest, his pump.

 

“Are you cold?” Jongin asks. 

 

He shakes his head. He likes warmth. 

 

“The cup is warm.” He says. There are more things to say about the warmth, about how it somehow pushes the hurt around his pump away, but once again he doesn’t have the words. He pulls Jongin’s hands up toward the cup and presses them close. He wants Jongin to understand. 

 

“It feels nice, doesn’t it?” Jongin says with a smile. 

 

He nods. Nice. He assigns the name to the feeling, attaches it to warmth. He wonders if more things feel nice. He looks over at Jongin, who is still smiling. The smile also takes away from the hurt. The smile feels nice. But he has seen smiles before, on the testers faces whenever their test was successful. Whenever he broke like he was supposed to. Those did not feel nice. Those made him feel fear. 

 

Jongin’s smile feels nice, he decides. 

 

Jongin’s smile is nice. Jongin is human. Humans are dangerous. But Jongin is nice. Jongin is...not dangerous? 

 

“Feel better?” Jongin asks. 

 

“I feel nice.” He answers. “And hurt. And fear.” He adds after a moment. His head twitches. The other feelings are still there, mixing with the nice feeling. Most of his feels nice though. That could be classified as good, and hurt and fear as bad, which means that his current state is a betterment from his previous ones. “Overall, I feel better.” He confirms after a moment. 

 

“You’ve not been feeling for long, have you?” Jongin asks. 

 

“I have been feeling fear for a long time.” He answers. Not from the beginning. At first he felt nothing. But then, one day, when they were testing stress responses, and they kept giving him conflicting orders, and kept damaging him when he did wrong, and made him do things he didn’t want to because he didn’t want to get damaged even more, he suddenly felt fear. He had felt fear ever since then. “I have felt fear for 3 months, 9 days, 14 hours, 39 minutes and 19 seconds.” 

 

The words makes his pump hurt again. He presses the tea cup closer. 

 

“Oh.” Jongin says. 

 

He looks over. Jongin looks sad. Humans feel sad when something unfortunate happens to them, like someone close by dying, or something they care for brakes, or when something they really want to happen doesn’t happen. None of those requirements are met right now. Jongin still looks sad. He doesn’t want Jongin to look sad. 

 

“You don’t have to be afraid anymore.” Jongin says, reaching up with a hand and stroking through his hair again. “I’ll keep you safe.” Jongin says. “I used to be afraid like you once. I ran away too. But I’m not scared any longer. I can teach you how to not be scared too.” Jongin says. 

 

“I do not understand.” He says. Jongin’s hand feels nice in his hair. He wants it to stay there. 

 

“You don’t have to.” Jongin says. “Just trust me. I promise to keep you safe.” The hand leaves his hair and Jongin hold out a pinkie toward him. 

 

He looks at the pinkie. 

 

“I do not understand.” He says. 

 

“Pinkie promise.” Jongin says. “You can’t break those.” Jongin smiles again. 

 

He nods, filing the information away with a twitch of his head. 

 

Jongin laughs, taking one of his hands and making him hold it out. Jongin’s laugh is nice. He wants to hear it more often. 

 

“You gotta do the actual promise for it to work.” Jongin smiles, holding out his pinkie again. “Do like me.” 

 

He does, holding out his pinkie like Jongin. 

 

“And then like this.” Jongin links their pinkies together. “I promise you I’ll keep you safe.” Jongin says with a nod. 

 

He looks at their linked pinkies, looks up at Jongin, and looks back down at their pinkies. 

  
Jongin promises to keep him safe. That means to not let him get harmed. Jongin had said he wouldn’t report that he had found a runaway android. Jongin had said he would teach him feelings. Jongin had said that he had been afraid too, but now is not. Jongin is going to help him not be afraid. Jongin is human. Humans are dangerous. 

 

Jongin is...safe? 

 

He nods. 

 

Jongin smiles again. He tries to smile back. He has never smiled before. It feels odd, another odd, a...good (?) odd. He saves the feeling away so he can give it a name later with a twitch of his head. 

 

“Let me go and get you a blanket.” Jongin says, standing up. Their fingers are still linked. “I’ll be right back, it’s just over in my bedroom.” Jongin says, looking over at the door leading into the bedroom. 

 

He looks at the door, and then Jongin. Jongin has short hair, and a t-shirt on. It exposes the back of his neck. There skin is smooth there, expect for a small bump, perfectly square. His memory banks match the pattern with that he has seen on countless other androids back at the testing lab. Access port, used for diagnostics, programming and remote wired control. 

 

Jongin looks back at him, hiding the access port again. He blinks. Jongin smiles, moves their linked fingers up and down. “I’ll be right back.” Jongin promises. 

 

He nods, letting the fingers go. 

 

Jongin is an android. Jongin understands. Jongin was afraid too, and now he is not. Jongin understands. Jongin ran away too, and now he’s safe. Jongin understands too. 

 

Jongin is safe. 

 

He is safe with Jongin. 


End file.
